Miss Hobson looked at her curiously, but Meg only nodded and ran off.
Presently Meg allowed Mrs. Blunt to look for a moment with her into the little oven. There were the two loaves brown and crusty, with beautiful white ridges peeping out where the crust had broken, looking the picture of what home-made loaves should be.
"Are they done?" asked Mrs. Blunt.
"Not quite. They are not 'soaked,' as mother would say. If we took them out now they would be wet in the middle."
She quickly shut the oven, looked at her fire, but did not touch it, as she had made it up before the bread went in; and then she turned to her kettle.
"Now boil as soon as you like," she said to it. She spread a cloth, set some teacups, cut some bread and butter, and took out of her cupboard a tin of sardines. "Jem heard what I was going to do, and he brought these home of his own idea; don't you think that was kind of him?" asked Meg.
"That it was," said Mrs. Blunt. "Why, I haven't been out to tea since—not for years."
"Here is the kettle boiling, and here is Pattie's little loaf, just cool enough for her to touch. Come, Pattie, sit on this hassock on the chair by mother, you'll be high enough then."
They gathered round the table while Meg invited her mother to ask the blessing; then they all began. But before Meg tasted hers she took up a couple of thin slices of bread and butter and a sardine on a little tray, with a nice hot cup of tea.
"Brought up some of the sunshine to me?" said Miss Hobson, smiling.